Towers of Silence

Jamil Dehlavi is a fascinating filmmaker, controversial in his home country Pakistan. My first encounter with him was his film about Muhammad Ali Jinnah, who was played by the legendary Sir Christopher Lee. This film, Tower of Silence (1975), is his first feature film, which he also wrote, produced and directed. It is a highly mysterious film of c. 50 minutes, which will leave you in awe.

The elegant black and white cinematography keeps you hooked for its entire duration. Scenes set in the present and past are interwoven, making you question their coherence. The images are haunting, grotesque and surrealistic, but at times also tender. It shows some of the enigmatic aspects of the religion of the Zoroastrians.

Animals have a particular role, as independently coexisting beside human beings. There are ants in the toilet, and vultures eating human flesh. Together with its surrealistic atmosphere, it reminded me of Luis Buñuel's and Salvador Dalí's Un chien Andalou (1929), or the cruelties in Alejandro Jodorowsky's films.

This movie deserves a reappreciation!

This is an art film and a little on the unfathomable side unless you happen to be Pakistani, or at least I hope it's more coherent to a Pakistani audience. Personally, I couldn't understand it. It's creatively edited and framed and it becomes progressively more watchable as it goes along, but the fundamental problem is that it's an "art film."

The movie had great cinematography. The director maintained a dark and gloomy atmosphere throughout the scenes, while also connecting them with mystery. However, the director exhibited a significant obsession with death, which does not align with Zarathustra's teachings. Zarathustra emphasizes the importance of life over death, with death representing Ahriman and light representing Ahura Mazda.

The director's fixation on death carried out even the portrayal of life, such as the scene in the breaking of a turtle's egg. Love was also portrayed in a dark manner, and the overall tone of the movie was serious and gloomy. Even the director's own fate within the narrative was bleak, and the movie concluded with a theme of death. A movie about Zarathustra should instead focus on themes of light, love, progression, growth, and consciousness.

Zarathustra, amongst all the religious founders, is the only one who is life-affirmative, who is not against life, whose religion is a religion of celebration, of gratefulness to existence. He is not against the pleasures of life, and he is not in favor of renouncing the world. On the contrary, he is in absolute support of rejoicing in the world, because except for this life and this world, all are hypothetical ideologies. God, heaven and hell, they are all projections of the human mind, not authentic experiences; they are not realities. Zarathustra is unique. He is the only one who is not against life, who is for life; whose god is not somewhere else; whose god is nothing but another name for life itself. And to live totally, to live joyously and to live intensely, is all that religion is based on.

(Zarathustra: A God that Can Dance by Osho)

Jamil Dehlavi's films create a unique impression, he is a genius in exploring various themes. Having shot avant-garde works, historical dramas, religious fables, conflicts, myths and socio-economic commentary. I can consider him in the list of the few living directors that have a brilliant understanding of the medium. Though in his 70s, the radical filmmaker is still spewing out films without sign of slowing down and I'm still waiting for his next release which was announced in 2020. It is very rare for this title to be mentioned and never finds a place in the list of surreal films. Criminally ignored, and I wanted to share my thoughts on this nightmare.

A semi-autobiographical impression, a reminiscence of images from childhood, which revives the memory of the author's uncle who rebelled against the family and eloped with the daughter of a Zoroastrian high priest. Jamil Dehlavi looks to the past, that of his family and of his country. He has taken a real incident that occurred in his family and weaved it into the story. The visuals and narrative are composed of his memories of witnessing Zoroastrian funerary rituals as the scenes oscillate between past and present, and sometimes are both at once. Dehlavi merges the traumatic landscapes of sex, politics, death and faith as he becomes obsessed with the death rituals- something juxtaposed with the extended image of vultures, skulls and skeletons. There is so much happening and an attempt to summarize the plot would be an exercise in futility.

Visually, Towers of Silence is like what you would get if you combined Katsu Kanai, Amos Gitai, José Val del Omar, Shirin Neshat, Parviz Kimiavi, Fernando Arrabal, Bahram Beizai with Rafael Corkidi's cinematography. Equally haunting in all this is the soundtrack, it accentuates the film's sensuality, warbled in Hindustani music. I wish someone will use the images and create a video for a Black metal band or for any Melechesh songs.

Anyway, the 1st reviewer finds it disjointed but no big deal. After all, in the words of David Lynch 'I don't know why people expect art to make sense. They accept the fact that life doesn't make sense'. Is there any sense in that? It is in this experience that Dehlavi indulges us. It is not simple, nor is it easy to immerse yourself in such an experience. It is a film to experience and feel, as are our dreams, fears, memories and nightmares. Everything raw and direct, without filters, as it should be. For me, his films always flabbergasts me in every single moment with awe.